Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

When the first letter arrived, He Yuzhu didn't take it seriously.

When the second letter arrived, he began to feel something was wrong.

The third, fourth, and fifth letters—the letters lay on the table, in brown paper envelopes, unsigned. He recognized the handwriting; they belonged to people he rarely saw.

He opened a letter, which contained only two lines of text.

"I heard Old Zhang is looking quite well lately. Do you still have any of that tea?"

The other one was shorter.

"I'm not feeling well, but I want to give it a try."

There was also a letter asking about cigarettes.

"I heard you have a kind of cigarette that doesn't make you cough?"

He Yuzhu read through the letters, leaned back in his chair, and didn't laugh.

Can't hide it.

He walked to the cabinet and took out the tea canister. It was empty.

There are still some in the system.

He clicked "redeem". One bottle, two bottles, three bottles—he ordered more than a dozen bottles.

I also ordered three servings of the cigarette version and three servings of the sugar pill version.

[Points consumed: 800 million]

[Current total points: 150,330,000]

There were a dozen or so small bottles and several small boxes on the table.

He began writing letters.

Each letter was short, just one sentence.

"Enclosed. We'll talk when you've used it."

He wrapped the items up, put them together with the letter into a brown paper bag, and sealed it.

Have someone deliver it.

The first person to arrive was someone using a cane.

It was a cold day, and frost had formed on the windows. The radiators hissed, and steam rose from the tea that had just been poured.

He Yuzhu heard a car outside and stood up to look out the window. A black sedan stopped at the door, and the driver got out, opened the back door, and helped someone slowly out of the car.

The man was over seventy years old, wearing an old cotton-padded jacket. He had difficulty walking and used a cane, taking a step and then resting. He Yuzhu quickly went out to meet him and supported his arm.

"Why did you come in person?"

The old leader didn't say anything, but let him help him inside. After entering, he sat down in a chair, took a few breaths, and then looked up at him.

"It's warm inside."

He Yuzhu poured him a cup of hot water.

The old leader took it, but didn't drink it; he just held it there.

"Did you give Old Zhang that tea?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

The old leader stared at him for a while.

"I've had a cough for five years, and no medicine seems to work. Old Zhang was bragging to me that he can now sleep through the night."

He paused.

"I asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn't tell me."

He Yuzhu did not respond.

The old leader put down his cup, took something out of his pocket, wrapped in red silk, and placed it on the table.

I saw this while passing by Liulichang.

He Yuzhu opened it and saw a calligraphy scroll. The four large characters, "A Good Doctor Who Saves the World," were still wet with ink.

"you……"

The old leader waved his hand and stood up.

"Is there any tea left?"

He Yuzhu took a small bottle out of the drawer.

The old leader took it, put it in his pocket, said nothing more, and walked out with his cane.

He Yuzhu saw the car off to the door and watched it drive away, turn the corner of the alley, and disappear from sight.

He looked down at the calligraphy and stared at it for a long time.

The second one who came was impatient.

The person arrived before the voice.

"Xiao He! Is Xiao He here?!"

He Yuzhu had just stood up when the door was pushed open. A dark-faced old man, in his early sixties, rushed in with a voice so loud it could lift the roof off.

He plopped down in the chair, pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and slammed it on the table.

How many cigarettes do you have left?

He Yuzhu looked at the pack of cigarettes; it was one of the batches he had given him.

"Have you finished smoking?"

The old man glared.

"Of course I'd come looking for you if I wasn't going to finish my cigarettes!"

He looked around and lowered his voice.

Was I too loud? Did no one hear me?

He Yuzhu shook his head.

The old man breathed a sigh of relief and regained his voice.

"Give me ten more!"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Ten aren't enough. Give me three first."

The old man was unhappy.

"What can three strips do? They'll be gone in a month!"

He Yuzhu pushed the pack of cigarettes back.

"This stuff is strong, so you'll have to take it easy. Take two packs first, and come back when you've finished them. That way, I can also check your body's reaction."

The old man stared at him for a few seconds.

Suddenly he laughed.

"You've got a knack for business."

He took something out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"The old things at home are just sitting there anyway."

It's an inkstone, from an old mine, and it feels cool to the touch.

Before He Yuzhu could say anything, the old man had already stood up, walked to the door, and then turned back.

"Hurry up and get my cigarettes."

The door closed.

He Yuzhu stood there, looking at the inkstone.

When the third person arrived, He Yuzhu didn't hear a sound.

He looked up and realized there was someone standing in the doorway.

He was in his sixties, wore glasses and a Zhongshan suit, was thin, and had a refined appearance. He stood there, not coming in, just watching him.

He Yuzhu stood up.

"you……"

The man walked in and sat down in the chair.

He didn't say anything.

He Yuzhu poured him a glass of water.

The man took it but didn't drink it.

After a moment of silence, the man spoke.

My wife went for a walk in the park yesterday.

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

The man continued.

"This is the first time in three years."

He took a set of books out of his cloth bag and placed them on the table.

"I made it up, agricultural technology."

He Yuzhu looked down at the books; the covers were simple, but the words were densely printed.

He turned to the title page and saw a name.

My hand paused for a moment.

He recognized the name. He had read this person's books, flipping through them several times in the research institute's archives.

He raised his head.

The man had already stood up and was walking out.

"you……"

The man didn't turn around, he just said...

"Could you give me some more candy? I don't want to take it for free."

He Yuzhu opened his mouth, but no words came out.

The door closed.

He stood there, looking at the set of books, looking at the name on the title page.

That evening, He Yuzhu sat alone in his office.

On the table sat the calligraphy, the inkstone, and the set of books. Outside the window, it was pitch black; the radiator had stopped working.

He looked at those things and remembered the faces of those people.

An old man with a cane, carrying a tea bottle, walks out.

The impatient old man lowered his voice and asked, as if to say, "Nobody heard me, right?"

The refined-looking one stood silently at the door.

the phone is ringing.

He answered the call.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end.

"Xiao He, it's me."

He Yuzhu recognized the voice.

"How are you feeling?"

There was no reply, and a few more seconds of silence followed.

"Director Qian, you know him, right?"

He Yuzhu's hand tightened slightly.

"Know."

A sigh came from the other end.

"He's dying. I visited him yesterday; he was so thin he was unrecognizable. He held my hand and said he wanted to see you."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

The other end said again.

"Xiao He, I know you're having a hard time. But he... he's helped you a lot. Just think of it as... visiting an old friend."

The phone hangs up.

He Yuzhu stood there, holding the microphone, listening to the busy tone.

Outside the window, the moon was obscured by clouds, appearing completely dark.

The things on the table were still there, but he couldn't focus on them anymore.